


I Could Always Count On You, Mate!

by FlyMeToTheMoon



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Animal Death, Blood and Violence, Elf Roadhog | Mako Rutledge, Eventual Smut, Gore, Loss of Limbs, M/M, Nonbinary Roadhog | Mako Rutledge, Orc Junkrat | Jamison Fawkes, Trans Junkrat | Jamison Fawkes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-25
Updated: 2017-04-06
Packaged: 2018-10-10 07:05:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10431861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlyMeToTheMoon/pseuds/FlyMeToTheMoon
Summary: Junkrat is an orc who never really fit in with his clan. He's small, and fights with magic and explosives, despite his clans disapproval.Mako is an elf who also never fit in with his tribe, being so large and strong, and preferring to fight with his strength than just magic.They find each other and, against their species' prejudices against the other, they find they have much in common.





	1. Smolder

**Author's Note:**

> The first two chapters are just backstory, I don't think they're representative of what the whole fic will be, but they are needed for me to build up to what happens.
> 
> This is my very first multi-chapter fic, and I'm only a couple chapters written ahead of this, so please bear with me as I try to update this.
> 
> (Small note: Mako is dmab nonbinary, but is comfortable with "he/him". Junkrat is a dfab trans man.)

     Junkrat spat the blood from his mouth with a smile. He threw a satchel of gunpowder at the attacker and watched their confusion as he waved his hand and ignited the pouch with a whisper. He may have been careless for letting an enemy orc sneak up from behind him during a fight, but he always had a plan. Always... he reached for another pouch in his bag to finish the job, but it was missing. Did he miscount? He should have had two more. He finished off what was left of the orc writhing on the floor with a blow from the horn on of his steel-toed boots. He picked up the copper coin that fell out of the satchel he ignited. The coin was the trick - upon his incantation, the grains of gunpowder would vibrate against the metal coin in the pouch to heat up and spark. He still wasn't sure how some magic users would create fire from nothing, but as of now, he made do with the best of his abilities. He flipped the coin and pocketed it with the rest.

  
     He stepped out of the cabin to see how the rest of his clan was faring with the raid. This particular clan of orcs refused to hold up their end of a cattle trade, so Junkrat's clan had come in to take their dues - more specifically take everything and kill anyone that wouldn't surrender and assimilate into their clan. Clans would grow, split apart, then join together again, most often by force, but sometimes peacefully when two clans were dwindling in numbers. It was the usual for orc politics.

  
     Looked like everything was going well, seeing as there were only a few stragglers putting up a fight. As expected from a surprise raid. Junkrat began to look for his superior when suddenly a huge explosion erupted from the other side of the small village. Screams he recognised broke out, and he rushed to the scene.

     There was a large fire spreading from the blast, and too many charred corpses strewn about. Orcs from both clans. The fighting had stopped, whoever was left had been distracted by the sudden casualties from both sides. Junkrat just stared at the mess, how did this happen? He recognised a few of the bodies, one of them being his superior's older sister. This was not good.

     "JUNKRAT!" He spun around, seeing his superior fuming with rage. "What have you done!?" She grabbed him by his armour and shook him.

     "It- IT WASN'T ME I SWEAR! I was on the other side of camp!" Junkrat frantically tried to think of anyone that would have recognised him, but he purposefully fought at the edge of the camp, since he was too small to be on the front lines. His superior snarled at him.

     "Bull. Shit." Her eyes were glowing in the light of the fire as she threw him down. "Your cheap explosions and fire magic have always been the bane of our clan." She kicked him. "We will settle this later." The crowd around him watched silently as his superior picked up her sister's body and turned to the crowd. "Show's over! Finish up here, take everything useful, we leave now." She marched away, spitting on Junkrat as she walked past.

     Junkrat looked up at everyone, trying to see if anyone would stand up for him, but they all turned away. How did this happen? He got up, growling at the soreness on his side where he was kicked. He looked over the explosion, kicking aside a few pieces of charred rubble. His superior could have killed him right then and there and no one would have questioned her. She didn't have the best relationship with her sister, but they were still blood... Blood... Next in the line of succession. Fuck! Junkrat thought, he'd been set up! He knew the clan generally thought nothing of him, particularly for being what he was, but apparently he was more disposable than he thought, to just be a fucking pawn for someone to gain more power! He kicked away more pieces of rubble, looking for what he hoped he wouldn't find. Maybe this would just be a mad coincidence after all...

     He kicked over a smoldering support beam, and shifted another piece of charred rubble, not caring that the radiating heat was singeing his skin.

     Two glowing orange eyes peered up from the black ash and whispered his fate. His tears sizzled as they fell against the hot metal. He picked them up, not minding the heat on his calloused fingertips, and dropped them into his bag.


	2. Meat

     The moon rose over the forest, its pale light weighing down Mako's conscience. He felt the trees themselves beg him to stay, to continue the life he'd been chosen for. But he couldn't bear to stay. In another life, maybe, he'd make a great elder and duke, ruling their forest fairly and keeping peace between tribes. As things were now, though, he was already in poor standing for just being himself. He couldn't take the role offered by his aging father who was looking to step down. Perhaps if he knew only one aspect disappointed everyone, he'd stay, but it seemed like every natural tendency he had would disgust everyone.

     The previous evening, a band of humans had entered their forest, and fired, without reason, on the wild herd of boar Mako had been watching over since they were orphaned as piglets. The few other elves that saw drew their bows, and shouted warning for the humans to leave, but Mako had been unable to grasp the carelessness of the humans' slaughter of animals that were clearly not in their territory. He had seen the carcasses discarded by wasteful human hunters and was disgusted to think of that happening to his boars.  
If elves ever had to kill for food, not a single piece of the animal would be wasted. They would plan it out, and ask the forest which animal to take so they'd know which creature would not be missed. Bones could be crafted into tools, skins for warmth or leather, feathers into quills.

     Not to mention Mako's boars had been like family. They were huge, and strong enough that they would even offer for Mako to ride on them. They surely would have grown healthy and lived long enough to be guardians in the forest, as Mako had channeled all his spare energy into helping them grow up strong and healthy. But now with the arrows from the humans embedded in their flesh, Mako saw their vitality and spirit wither. Maybe two of the lot would survive the injuries, but would only live an ordinary unenchanted life.  
Mako's blood boiled as he tore the humans apart, ripping their frail limbs from their bodies. He crushed their skulls under his boots as they begged forgiveness and repayment. The distinct crunch of a human skull was the most satisfying and cathartic noise he could ever imagine. He grinned as he watched the blood ooze out from under his foot. The noise of one of his subordinates retching pulled him from his murderous trance. He'd told the ill one to go home and send for others each to help collect the deceased boars for cleaning, and more to help tend to the injured ones. Mako left with the three remaining elves to bury the human remains outside of their territory. He spat on the unmarked grave. He knew his fellow elves who had seen him in combat did fear his strength, but the ones who saw this were just gatherers and guards, and had never been exposed to gory combat.

     He would have never made for a good leader terrifying his kin like this. His size alone was unusual for an elf, and intimidated most who didn't know him personally. When he was a child his peers would tease him and tell him his mother was a giant troll, (though his father did assure him that his mother was an elf, and that long ago in their line of ancestry there were other large elves, and that they just grew smaller and more agile to counter the strengths of the other neighboring species.) At least he had a younger half-brother who, while still young and carefree about life, would likely make a better ruler when their father passed.

     Mako sipped some tea as the moon rose higher. Soon he would be on his way. The smell of roasted meat wafted into his tree cabin. How he wished it was his mouth watering instead of his eyes. He wiped away the tears as he heard a young elf approaching.

     "Mako?"

     "Come inside."

     "Um, on your request I've gathered.. their tusks. We've begun.. cooking." The elf looked nervous, probably heard what he did to the humans.

     "Thank you." Mako took the pouch containing the memories of his friends. "How are the surviving boars?"

     "They will recover! I believe they're resting now."

     "Can you do one more favour for me?" Mako asked.

     "Of course, what is it?"

     "Please make sure to find someone else who can take good care of them, I don't think they will appreciate seeing me after they saw what I did. At least for a while. I couldn't stand to see them hate me for it." It was a lie. As best of a lie he could tell without saying anything directly untrue. At least the young elf seemed to believe it, maybe out of fear.

     "Oh, yes! I do think I have a few people in mind I can ask."

     "Thank you. That's all I needed."

     The young elf turned to leave, but paused. "Um.." They turned back around. "I know you're probably still grieving, but.. it was your idea to turn this into a small celebration of life, so if you don't mind my suggesting, it might be nice for you to come and say a few words about your.. friends."

     Mako sighed. He knew this would end up being an unofficial pre-coronation ceremony if he went down there and gave a beautiful speech about the necessity of bonding with nature or something. People would forgive him for being vengeful and dangerous. He would settle down, take a spouse, be crowned duke, and live a dainty, restrained lifestyle discussing art and politics with the other elf tribes of the forest. It made him sick. They all got lazier and more submissive with each leader, all of them too scared to take a real fight back on the humans encroaching on their territories, only taking arms when the fight came to home.

     No, Mako wouldn't do it. He was definitely leaving tonight. He had what he needed, and he was ready to go. He would miss it, but he also knew there was no way he could make any real change. This may be where his heart is, but it certainly wasn't his home any longer. Mako never had a way with words, anyway.

     "Of course, I'll be down in a moment, I'd like to finish my tea." Another half truth.

     "Okay! I'll let everyone know." The elf skipped down the steps, probably relieved.

     The moon was high over the forest, and Mako's teacup long empty. It was time to go.


	3. Blood

     Junkrat winced as he heard the clan elder call for a blood battle between his superior and himself. That surely meant a fight to the death for someone as weak as him. Technically, it was just the last one able to stand that would be named the victor, he'd seen it happen within his clan a few times, thankfully not involving him, but only half the time would the victor not deliver a killing blow to the defeated.

     They exited the elder's common tent to the center of their temporary camp. They couldn't even wait till they got home? Junkrat felt the hairs prickle at the back of his neck when he saw the orcs gather around them. It didn't feel real. His superior strode in front of him. He wasn't even given a chance to argue his case. The elder was probably in on the plan as well, being his superior's mother! Orc leaders were always so corrupt, he hated this. He hated everyone. He hated everything they put him through for being different. He felt the rage well up in him, thankfully, as it should when facing a blood battle.

     His superior was thrown her usual battle axe. Junkrat waited for someone to give him a weapon, but when he looked back the orc who pushed him, he just shook his head. He cursed at himself for using all his bombs during the raid, he should have saved some. (He would have had two extra if they hadn't been stolen!) Breath hitching with adrenaline, he pulled out his small dagger. He wouldn't go down without at least giving her something to remember him by, to remember that she murdered her own sister and framed someone else for some dumb family title!

     The orc elder's muscle called out, "A battle for blood to avenge the fallen heiress, may her soul rest peacefully! Last one standing inherits the title of heiress!" A shitty motivational consolation, Junkrat thought to himself. He giggled. Imagine, if he won by some dumb luck, and everyone would have to call him Heiress Junkrat. He, of course, would have punched anyone who called him that with the spikes jutting out of his prosthetic knuckles. (He had before, and his clan knew better than to misgender him after being corrected.) Regardless, it was obviously rigged in his superior's favour, hearing the gendered language. This was the end of Junkrat.

     "FIGHT!" The orc shouted.

     Junkrat knew that with her battle axe, he would have to be faster, rather than stronger, so he dove forward as soon as she swung it past him. He tried to stab at her gut, but she kicked her leg up and pushed him back. He dove to the side to avoid another swing from the axe, and again to avoid the return of it. This time he ducked closer and dug his blade down her thigh. She screamed and doubled her effort on swinging the hammer. He barely backed away, falling on his hand to get low enough and then jumping back up. He sidestepped and felt his foot collide with something... someone's foot? And his step was shortened by half. The broad side of the axe collided with his back as he fell flat onto the dirt.

     This was it, he thought. Cheated out of his own death match. He turned to his side to try to get one last stab in, and the axe collided with his knee. Not his head? Oh, the pain. He screamed. He didn't want to look, he brought his dagger down, and hit something. A scream. It must have hit home. He felt her boot connect with the side of his face and he collapsed, trying to spit out blood and the gravel in his mouth. He was starting to black out.

     He felt a hand grab his face. "No arm, no leg, what good are you?" She slammed his face into the dirt. "I'm finished. Leave him for dead." He felt his body get kicked a few more times as the crowd of orcs dissipated and left, and he passed out.

 

 

     When Junkrat woke up, it was barely dawn. All the tents were gone. He spat out some blood that was still in his mouth, and felt that more of it had dried where his face was on the dirt. He struggled to close his mouth around his tusks, trying to rehydrate it and felt something missing. Damn it, it wasn't gravel kicked into his mouth, it was a shattered tooth. He spit out another piece. At least he still had his fangs and his tusks, and even though the tusks weren't huge, they did survive the kick to his face.

     He took a deep breath, eyes still closed, and tried to move, but regretted it immediately. The worst throbbing of pain came from his right leg. He opened his eyes again and looked around him, someone had at least left him his things: the contents of his bag were spilled over his body. Probably stole his coins before leaving him. Armour stolen, too, seemed like.

     "Fuck..." He whispered as he forced himself to roll over, but something didn't roll with him, did they leave him a pack of supplies at least? He looked down and saw the bottom half of his leg lying on the wrong side of his body. That couldn't be right, because his leg was currently throbbing and aching worse than he'd ever felt before. He started feeling light headed and laid down again, closing his eyes. "It didn't cut through, it didn't cut through." He repeated this out loud a few more times. He tried moving his ankle and felt pain shoot up his leg. He felt the trickle of lukewarm blood dripping out the gash in his leg. It was still there. It had to still be there. He could _Feel_ it. He opened his eyes and looked again.

     "FUCK!" Okay, he thought to himself, regardless of if it's there or not, he needs to cauterize the wound before he bleeds to death. Think of revenge. Yeah. He can work hard and earn money, and pay a mercenary to bring her back to him and he'll do the same thing to her. How is he going to work with no leg? FUCK. "One thing at a time." He whispered and tried breathing with more controlled breaths. "Fire." He looked at the contents of his bag strewn about and found his jar of gunpowder. No, that wouldn't do, he needed kindling. He looked around the camp, but the area had been matted down to mud by the rough orc boots trodding over it. Off the main path, under a tree, he saw a fallen branch. Maybe he could make it that far. He gathered up his things into his pack and pulled the torn cloth from the pants on his detached leg. He flinched when he touched the cold flesh, expecting to feel it, but he didn't.

     He screamed when he wrapped the cloth around his wound, arms shaking from the shock of the pain. He tied a knot tightly and laid back down immediately, pulling at his already thin hair and crying. He hated everything. This was the worst. He slammed his fists on the ground and growled. Suddenly feeling the rage well up in him again and tried to ride that feeling as he quickly began dragging himself toward the branch.

     It was a great effort, but he lost steam halfway, feeling blackness pulling at the corners of his vision. He laid down and breathed again, trying to focus on staying awake. When he felt the darkness subside, he began again, more slowly and carefully. It seemed to take forever as he crawled. The sun was already up, but for all he knew it could have just been a few minutes.

     At last he reached the branch and broke it into small pieces. He pulled the few dry straws of grass that were within reach, and tore those up into small pieces, too. His hands were shaking so much he wasn't sure if he'd make it, feeling the life drain from his face again.

     "Come on, ya weak cunt, you didn't come all the way over 'ere to play with grass. Stay awake." He muttered aloud, in attempt to not pass out. He propped himself to sit up against the tree, even though it caused the blood to rush from his head. He smoothed away an area of dirt next to him and piled the kindling on top. "Almost there."

     Junkrat pulled out his dagger from the pack and looked at it. Suddenly, he had second thoughts. What if he couldn't use his magic on anything but gunpowder? He didn't want to cause an explosion right now, though. What if his spell wouldn't work with the dagger? His coins were gone, so it was the only non-rusted metal he had, besides the spike on his boots, but he didn't want to sacrifice those. Wait, boot. Shit, he thought, he could have sacrificed one. He refused to look back at it, still attached to his broken leg. He thought about it another moment, and decided it wouldn't matter anyway if the spell didn't work on steel: his dagger was steel, like the boot spikes, so no harm done in leaving it behind.

     He fumbled around in his pack for his leather canteen, thankful he had drank all the tea in it and refilled it with fresh water earlier when they camped here. He poured a few drops over it and wiped away the blood from the dagger, then repeated it again for good measure, wiping it off on the inside of his shirt.

     No other options, he stuck his blade into the kindling. He whispered the incantation, and shut his eyes, trying very hard to visualise a nice, big, cozy fire starting. He opened his eyes. Nothing. He said it again with more force, and glared at the dagger. Slowly, the pieces of grass began vibrating against the dagger. He kept eye contact, willing it to heat up, hoping this branch would last long enough to heat the blade enough to close the wound.

     Junkrat felt the darkness pry at the edges of his vision again and shouted the incantation out of frustration to keep himself awake. A healthy flame erupted from the grass and caught on the pieces of branch. He stared at it for a minute as it heated the blade, noticing the wood was burning much more slowly than it should have. At least that was working in his favour, but he didn't understand why.  
His nose started running from keeping his face so close to the flames. He sat back up and wiped it on his good arm.

     He left the dagger under the fire and began gingerly undressing the wound. Yeah, it was definitely gone. Maybe if he hadn't passed out so long he could have flubbed some spell to reattach it till he could find a doctor, but there was no life left in it now. He shuddered remembering the feeling of the icy skin. Not the time to be thinking of that. He hissed as he peeled the sticky fabric from his leg, feeling more lukewarm blood spurt out.

     "Ahh... come on, come on..." He grabbed his canteen again, pulled the cork out, and shakily poured water over the wound, trying to wash out the grains of dirt and pieces of crumbled bone. His hands began shaking again from the pain and he had to stop before he spilled all the water. "FUCK." He panted. "GOOD ENOUGH." His wound was bleeding a lot again, and he had to hurry now before he passed out.

     Doing it quickly without thinking, he grabbed the dagger and pressed it against the worst part of the wound, knowing he wouldn't want to do this too many times. As soon as the blade touched bloody flesh, it sizzled and smoked. Junkrat screamed as he realised the pain a split second later.

     He took a deep breath.

     And everything went black.


	4. Mending

     Mako snuck away from his home, only taking a few bags with him. He wasn't sure where he'd be able to go, but he needed to get going. He could live off a forest easily if he found nowhere else to call home. He rested a hand on the tree his cabin was built onto. He silently asked the forest to quiet his footsteps as he escaped. He didn't want anyone to come after him before he was long gone. He said bye to the tree, and thanked it for housing him all these years, before quickly walking away.

     He took a deep breath, feeling adrenaline building up in him. While he had many unpleasant memories of his tribe, he did have many good ones, too. He felt nostalgia for a life that was never his - what could have been.

     Mako wiped his tears on his sleeve and picked up pace as fast as his legs would take him without running. He'd made up his mind.  
He kept pace till the forest thinned. He crossed a small stream and came across a trodden road, parallel with the stream. Must have been used between communities in the area for trading, he figured. Many tracks looked fresh, however. Did an army come through here? He walked in the treeline, wanting to avoid anyone who might be on the path.

     Soon the moon set. The sky began to get pink with sunrise. Mako slowed his pace, wanting to be fully aware of the area in daylight where he didn't have a sight advantage over other non-elf people. Likely, no one would notice him within the trees at first glance. That came with being an elf, but he also had to consider his size. It would be harder to hide if he did come across other people.

     He felt tiredness pull at his mind. The rising sun was harsh on his eyes and made him long for a rest, but he knew he shouldn't so early in the day when others would be rising and beginning their daily travels. He needed to stay alert. He decided a quick break wouldn't hurt. He walked the few paces to the stream and splashed some water on his face and took a drink. He crouched there for a moment, resting his eyes from the sun, but keeping his ears alert.

     He thought he heard something in the distance.

     His ear twitched again when he heard it. That was definitely someone screaming. In the direction he was headed. Oh, if only he should be so lucky, that the day he leaves, he comes across an even worse drama than he's trying to escape.

     Mako decides to keep going anyway, keeping an extra eye out for theives that might also be hiding just off the road. He notices a small clearing ahead, through the trees, and cautiously starts to walk around it. He hears someone muttering though, and notices them lying on the ground, next to a tree on the other side of the road going through the clearing. They seemed injured... crawling... Mako checked his surroundings before creeping closer for a better view, making sure to stay hidden in the trees.

     He crouched down beside some brush and watched what seemed to be a runt orc dragging itself towards... a tree. It was also missing a leg, leaving a trail of dark blood behind it. Mako realised the clearing must have been where more orcs made a camp, judging by the holes in the ground and the worn down earth. That would explain the fresh tracks on the road. Something else was lying in the middle of the clearing. Looking back at the injured orc, and back to the thing, it was definitely that orc's missing leg. Mako wondered for a moment if he should put it out of its misery. He noticed the orc even had a mechanical hand. He must have been through a lot. Mako looks around and listens, and is certain there's no one else for at least a few miles in either direction. He's about to get up and walk away when he hears the orc casting a spell he recognized. He creeps closer, crossing the road quickly and hiding among the trees again.

     The orc was trying to start a fire using just grass and metal while casting a spell meant for metal and brimstone. To be fair, it probably would have started on its own, but likely would have been very weak and burnt out easily. Mako considered going to offer help, but the orc suddenly shouted the incantation with strength he didn't seem to have, and the fire started up strongly.

     Mako whispered a quick spell to help it last longer, surprised by the orc's effort and not wanting it to be wasted. Immediately after casting it he cursed to himself. He didn't want to get involved with drama, and here he was, actively involving himself with something particularly taboo.

     Not today, Mako. Just be on your way, and let nature decide this creature's fate. You've done enough, he thought to himself.  
He tried to will himself to walk away, and succeeded in turning around, but then he heard the orc shout, and he had to turn around again and watch. Something about the orc's persistence kept Mako fascinated.

     "FUCK! GOOD ENOUGH!"

     Mako watched in horror as the orc pressed the hot dagger to the wound on his thigh, hearing the flesh sizzle. He stood up, ready to tell the orc not to do it again and let Mako use a healing spell instead, but the orc screamed and then fainted.

     In a panic, Mako rushed over and examined the damage. The hot blade had successfully stopped the worst of the bleeding, but it still needed tending to. He hovered his hands over the wound and whispered an incantation to age the wound, therefore stopping the bleeding and drying it out a bit, though it was still quite raw.

     It looked fine, but the orc didn't move. Mako cautiously placed his hand over the clean side of the orc's neck and felt a weak pulse. Still just fainted. Against his better judgement, he set both of his packs down next to the tree and looked over the orc's things for anything he could use to help. As a precaution, he took the orc's dagger and placed it out of reach on the opposite side of the fire. Seeing nothing else of use, he grabbed the orc's canteen and bloody rag and walked to the stream to wash it. As he walked, he kept an eye out for any herbs he could use.

     At the edge of the clearing, Mako noticed a modest growth of yarrow. He thanked the flowers and carefully dug up a few pieces. He made his way to the stream and scrubbed the bloody cloth. He couldn't manage to get all the dark blood off, but it was enough to reuse for now. He dumped and refilled the canteen skin, and washed the yarrow, making sure to get all the dirt off the roots, too. He grabbed two clean-looking stones and brought everything back to the small fire, still burning unwaveringly thanks to his earlier spell. He would collect more fallen wood after he tended to the orc.

     He set his pack next to the fire and tore a small piece of cloth from the rest, and laid the majority to dry over his pack. With the small piece he set to gently wiping the dried blood off the unwounded part of the orc's leg. Then off his face. This thing was a mess. There was so much blood over the side of his face. Mako had to pour out some water from the canteen to rinse the blood soaked scrap before he could finish with his face. Curious, he took a peek at the orc's mouth. Ah, he was missing a tooth, too, that's the source of the blood. What trouble was Mako getting into by helping this runt? Did he even want to be here when the orc woke up? Mako finished cleaning his face as best he could, giving up after realising he was trying to wipe away a fresh bruise on the orc's cheekbone.

     Next, Mako carefully propped the orc's leg up onto his bag. He grabbed the yarrow plants and spoke another spell to age them and dry them out so he could crush the flowers and leaves between the two smooth stones. He gently applied this to the orc's wound and wrapped it carefully in the now cleaner cloth.

     He walked the area and grabbed a few more pieces of wood that could keep the fire going once his spell wore off and set it next to the orc.

     Right now, he's done all he can for the orc. If Mako were any other elf, he would have bolted at first sight. Now that he's helped the poor thing, he should definitely leave. His conscience would be clear if he walked away right now. But curiosity had a firm grip on him, and he sat down across from the orc. Mako pulled his metal canteen from his own bag, loosened the cork, and set it next to the fire to warm up.

     This whole thing was a bad idea, but he did it anyway.


	5. Sparkling Conversation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally they meet!

     Junkrat groaned. The sound of his own voice woke him up more than anything else. He wished he'd just stayed silent, because as soon as he started regaining consciousness, a wave of pain came pouring back into his veins like molten iron. He hummed uncomfortably and slowly worked his hand up to his face to rub his eyes. "Fuck..." he whispered, noticing it was already nearing dusk. At least the fire was still there to keep him warm. Wait, how was that still going? He reopened his eyes and strained to look around despite the throbbing in his head.

     "Feeling any better?" He heard a deep voice say. He looked up and saw a giant approaching. Great, was he gonna be someone's dinner now?

     "Fuck off." Junkrat rasped out. He dropped his head again to rub his eyes, sore from straining to look up so high.

     "Jus' being polite." The giant sat across from the fire from him. "Patched up your leg as best I could."

     His leg. Fuck. Junkrat looked down. He certainly wasn't bleeding out any more. "Why?" If the giant wanted to eat him, he would've been easier to cook here or carry home dead.

     "Couldn't just let you die. I may be an elf, but I'm not heartless when I see someone dying." He looked away, in thought.

     Wait. "AN ELF!? Fuck! Thought ya were a bloody giant gettin' ready to eat me!" Junkrat sighed in relief, but took a better look at his saviour. He did have elf ears and was dressed pretty cleanly. Wouldn't have expected an elf to ever help him, considering they were natural enemies after having centuries of bad blood and hatred actively taught to him by orcs. But this elf didn't even wince in disgust when he spoke. Junkrat supposed he's had all day to make nasty faces at him while he was unconscious and just got used to looking at him. "Never seen an elf as big as ye."

     "Never seen an orc as small as you, but I'm sure we both get that a lot."

     "Fair enough. Name's Junkrat, by the way." Silence. The elf looked down. "What, I don't get to know the name a my saviour?" Junkrat huffed, "Fine, no skin off my back." He sniffled and looked around, trying to think of anything else to talk about and break the awkward silence, something to distract from the pain.

     Junkrat shifted against the tree, wincing at the ache in his belly.

     "Hey, mate. Got a real big favour to ask a yeh." Junkrat paused waiting for an objection. "Think ya could help me up so I c'd water the grass over there? Sure I'm about to spring a leak any moment."

     "Yeah, of course." The elf got up, wrapped an arm under his good side, and lifted him up with ease.

     "FUCK!" Junkrat felt the blood rush to his... where his leg should be... and felt his whole body tingle in response.

     "You okay?"

     "FUCKING PEACHEY. JUST... help me get to that tree over there." Junkrat pointed to the closest tree, and the elf helped him limp a few steps as Junkrat groaned at each one.

     "This is good enough." Mako insisted, stopping them.

     Junkrat panicked a little. It most certainly wasn't enough. "No, it's not! Take me to the tree!"

     "Won't watch, just go. You're clearly in pain."

     He just didn't understand, and Junkrat really didn't feel like explaining himself right this second. "I. Can't. Just take me to the damn tree already!"

     The elf gave in and helped him the rest of the way, making sure he had a hold on the tree before stepping a few steps away and turning around.

     Carefully, Junkrat twisted around and leaned his back on the tree, still holding on with one hand. It was hard to crouch down against the tree with only one shaky leg, but he managed to barely squat low enough and pushed his pants down with his free hand. It took him a second, but the relief was instant, he didn't even care if a bit splashed onto his boot, he'd stepped in worse before. He finished and tried to stand up again to make it seem like he wasn't squatting, but his single leg just wouldn't work. He tried to scale himself back up the tree with his arms, but the bruise on his back refused to let him. He was stuck.

     At least he got his pants back up, he reasoned as he called the elf back for help. "Ey, I'm done. Needa hand, though."

     The elf turned around and gave him a confused look, but offered a hand anyway and helped him back to the fire. It was starting to get dark now and Junkrat was thankful the fire was warm, as he still felt quite anemic.

     As soon as Junkrat was seated again the elf spoke up, "Made some tea earlier, been keepin' it warm. Probably do you some good to drink it." Junkrat watched as the elf grabbed a shiny metal flask from near the fire, using a handkerchief to hold it. "Would've made you something more, but didn't know how you'd feel."

     Junkrat took the canteen and smelled the contents, still not sure if he could trust the elf.

     "S'not poisoned, trust me, if I wanted you dead I'd've just walked right by."

     "Well I don't exactly know who you are anyway! Won't even tell me ya name. For all I know, She sent you to drag it out and finish the job!" Junkrat pouted and took a swig of the hot liquid, nasty and herb-y. What did he expect from an elf?

     "How'd it happen?"

     "Got eaten off by the fucking wolf I's huntin'." Junkrat grumbled and took another swig, not wanting to recall the fight.

     "Don't have to tell me, just curious since I patched you up." They sat in silence for a minute. "Mako."

     "What?"

     "It's my name - was - my name, I guess... Not really feelin' that any more."

     "How come?"

     "Don't think I have a right to it after abandoning my tribe."

     "You ran away?"

     "Had to."

     "What'd you do, kill someone?" Junkrat cackled and took another sip. Mako was silent as Junkrat's giggles died down. He noticed the elf's serious expression staring into the fire. Realisation dawned on him, "No fuckin' way... Who'd you kill? Ya wife cheat on ya or summin? Annoying neighbors? Or, ooh, or maybe ya went and killed your own elder?" Junkrat could tell he was really stretching things, but he couldn't help feeling a bit nervous.

     "Humans."

     "Oh! Pff, killed many a those myself. Don't even bother keepin' track a them." Junkrat couldn't help feeling a bit relieved. Humans had never treated elves or orcs well, always waging battles against one another, their history of enslaving orcs, and constantly destroying elven forests... Maybe this was something they could use to relate to each other.

     "Wasn't in combat."

     "Oh." Junkrat chugged some of the tea. That was a little different, but he still felt like he could still relate. Junkrat watched as the elf squinted at the fire, dark brown eyes lost in thought. He had long silver hair reflecting pink light against the fire. Half of it was twisted back into a ponytail, and the rest of it draped over his large figure. His skin was a warm brown, much different from Junkrat's pale greyish skin, and his face was decorated with dark swirling tattoos. (Junkrat knew they had some significance to the elves, but never bothered to learn more on account of their species' aversion to each other.) The elf also had a nice pair of fangs, Junkrat noted, but they were mostly hidden behind his plump lips, as the elf didn't seem to be very talkative.

     This elf is definitely beautiful. Objectively, he told himself. Junkrat, of course, would never admit to anything like that. He was into big strong orcs with lots of muscles. Though... this elf was also definitely hiding lots of muscles under his cloak. The fabric stretched taught over his large figure as he shifted position. Junkrat caught himself staring. Now was not the time to be thinking this. He opened his mouth to say the first thing he thought of to get his mind off it, and immediately regretted it. "What did they do?" He silently cursed himself for always speaking before thinking. He noticed a grim look cross the elf's face. "Sorry, mate, I shouldn't have asked. Me an' my big mouth." He popped the tea canteen back in his mouth, pretending to not care, but kept an eye on the elf.

     Mako looked up at him. "You got any family? Someone you care about?"

     "Nah. Was orphaned during a raid and taken in by my clan as a kid. Raised by everyone there equally, so maybe they're all my family... But not anymore." He said, feeling stressed when he realised that they definitely were not his family. Maybe they never were. No one defended him when he needed it, they were all ready to let him die. Thinking back, they definitely never cared about him. Fuck them, he thought. "Anyway, 's how I got the name Junkrat. No one ever found out my real name, 'n they needed to call me summin'... I like it, anyway." Junkrat looked back up at the elf and realised he was talking too much again. "Sorry, 'm running my mouth again."

     "Don't be." Mako looked hurt, and for a second Junkrat thought he was joking, but then his face softened. "Don't ever be sorry for who you are, kid."

     Mako paused, in thought, but then continued. "Dunno why I'm botherin' telling you." Junkrat was about to say something, but Mako continued. "Years ago I took in some orphaned boar piglets. Kept them in my area of the forest, gave 'em lots of food and warded away predators. One day I started feeding 'em my magical energy. I just loved them so much, they were like family. While the rest of my tribe would avoid me for being so intimidating, these huge boars loved me and never flinched away when I pet them. Soon it came to be that I was feeding them as much energy as I could afford in a day. They were massive. I'm no small fella, but they'd often let me ride 'em around the forest, showing me many places I hadn't even explored in my earlier years. Everyone in my tribe knew all of them would grow up and be important guardians of the forest when they matured, maybe even outliving me."

     Mako sighed. "I was out visiting them, and some of our territory guard was in that area, too. Human hunters came by and fired at the boars before any of us had a chance to react. All those years of love I poured into them, gone in a flash. Two of them lived, but weakly. I lost it. Crushed those hunters in a big bloody mess with my bare hands. Felt great. Felt natural. I didn't realise the other elves were still watching. They were horrified. Probably would have had some consequences if I weren't next in line to become the next duke. But I couldn't stay. I'm not cut out for pointless bickering over territory and being a prissy elder. Especially not when everyone is scared I'll bash their head in for saying anything wrong. 'It's not the elf way, you disappoint me' is what my father would always tell me after I came back from a battle all bloody. So, there's no point in me staying when the only ones who care about me are gone."

     "Sorry, mate. That's rough. Humans are the worst." Junkrat scratched at the relief pattern on the canteen. "I know all too well what it's like to not fit in. Can't say I was anyone important though. Probably won't even be missed."

     "They the ones who left you for dead?"

     "Yeah. Wasn't even my fault." Junkrat shifted to lie down next to the fire, propping his bad leg up on his bag again. "We were raiding a smaller clan's village to settle a debt, 'm pretty sure they knew it was going to happen but were too proud to surrender, but anyway... I'm small, but it doesn't mean I can't put up a fight. I usually take explosives to a battle and set 'em off with magic. It probably doesn't sound like much to a fancy elf like yaself, but it's a pretty hard trick for an orc like me to learn. Needed to make myself useful somehow. The only magic users orcs care about are healers, and I didn't exactly graduate from the Healer's School of Magic for Orcs, if you know what I mean. You either have it or you don't, and I didn't. Magic relating to fire, though? I can wrap my head around that. The clan, they don't like that. They see it as cheating, that I'm not putting my whole body into the spirit of the fight, that I'm no better than an elf just prancing around the sidelines." Junkrat realised who he was talking to. "Oh! No offense a course, but you know the stereotype they all hammer into us as kids so we don't go 'makin' friends with the enemy' and such. I'm sure whatever they tell you is probably true about us, though."

     "No, the prancing is definitely true about most elves." Mako chuckled out, appreciating Junkrat's imagery. "Do you guys really pit yourselves against each other just for entertainment?"

     It was a lighthearted question, but as soon as Mako saw Junkrat's face, he knew.

     "Maybe it is just for entertainment after all. I'm sure they all laughed their bellies out about it after."

     "Sorry."

     "I'm not. They'll get what's comin to em, soon's I find the right man for the job." Junkrat was jabbing a twig into the embers of the fire, watching it steam, then smudging it out and repeating.  
"How did it get that far, though? To beat you up so badly?" Mako reclined onto his side, propping his head up on his fist. He seemed genuinely interested at least.

     "Oh. Well, I'm the only one in our clan who uses explosives. I was on the outskirts of that little village, I'm no good in close quarters anyway, and I notice a few of my little bomb satchels were missing. Seemed like the fight died down, so I go looking for my boss and suddenly there was a huge boom right in the middle of everything. I'da been proud of it if it'd been just the other clan, but there were a bunch from ours that got caught in it, too. Of course my superior's sister was there, dead, and boss comes stomping up, blaming me for everyone to hear. I'm the only one with these bomb things, so how could anyone else have done it? I'm standing there thinking, and it hits me. Boss's sister was the heiress of the clan, and they hated each other, and I'm such an easy target to blame. Even found the coins I use lyin' there in the burning mess. No way anyone would've wanted to stand up for me anyway." Junkrat crossed his arms. "We got back and immediately at our camp, not even at home, they announce we'll settle it in a blood battle. I'm certain even the elder was in on this, too. Maybe even most of the people in the clan. They didn't really care about me since I was always so small and weird and tran- uh, different. I mean, there were some others like me, but then I was also small and did magic, so I never really fit in with them either. Anyway, they didn't even give me a weapon, only had my little dagger, and of course she's got her huge battle axe. Anyway, it's rare for someone to come out of a blood battle alive unless it's just a trivial thing to let off steam, but they don't announce it lightly. Didn't expect her to leave me half dead, but maybe she felt bad about framing me and didn't wanna land the killing blow or sommin'... Whatever it was, that was her biggest mistake." Mako hummed in agreement.

     Maybe it was the warmth of the tea and fire, or how nice it was to have someone listen to him for a change, but Junkrat felt really comfortable, despite the aching in his body. "Thanks for listenin', mate, ya not so bad for an elf."

     "You're not so bad for an orc."

     "'m not much of an orc, anyway," Junkrat said, smiling a lazy, toothy grin.

     "I'm not much of an elf, either." Mako smiled comfortably back.

     They both lied there, content in the silence for a few minutes.

     Mako spoke up, "I could teach you a few things about magic if you'd like?"

     "Dunno if I'll be able to do it without my coins."

     "We could try? I know a few different spells to create fire, we could try something to work around it."

     "Suppose its worth a try, then! Tomorrow, a course, I dunno if I have the energy to get up again right now," Junkrat said with a tired laugh.

     "Shit, wait, that reminds me, I can't do it," Junkrat's heart sank for a moment. "I've got a hot date with the elven prince tomorrow, it'll have to wait till Sunday." Junkrat half-believed him for a second, but when he saw the grin across Mako's face, he realised it was a joke and cackled loudly.

     Through fits of giggles, Junkrat breathed out, "Good one, mate, ya really had me going!" He huffed, trying to catch his breath. Something else about what Mako said caught his attention. Testing the waters, he asked, "So, you're into the princely type then?" Maybe he would be safe to tell Mako about himself.

     "In a manner. I'd prefer him less important, though." Mako continued, not seeming to mind Junkrat's staring. "Been with a few warriors when I was younger, but gave up after I scared them away when they saw me in battle. Was alright before then."

     "Hmm, woulda been the opposite f'you were in my clan, hah..." Junkrat swallowed a knot in his throat. "Tried dating this one orc girl for a bit. Wasn't too bad till she found out I wasn't.. born male, so I introduced her to my iron knuckles." Junkrat flexed his prosthetic hand. "Don't think many orcs wanna get with the queer runt of the clan, but whatever. Definitely have a strong preference for more masculine people though. Lotsa muscles, big tusks, y'know." Junkrat let his mouth run. "Only a few in my clan were also like me, though they were a lot bigger and stronger, so people respected them more. Probably won't date many more orcs after being left behind, though..."

     Mako spoke up suddenly, "Well, I don't mind you the way you are. A lot of elves are like that where I'm from, including my brother. Perfectly natural to me." Junkrat smiled in relief. "Honestly, I don't exactly like the idea of even having a gender, it doesn't suit me, but I've just been so used to people assuming it my whole life, I don't see a point in changing anything for myself. Don't think anyone outside of our forest would take as kindly to it, either. Humans seem to have the worst of it."

     "Don't they always." Junkrat relished in this feeling he was having right now. He truly felt safe for the first time in a long time.

     The fire slowly died down and the moon rose higher. Mako pulled out a small blanket from one of his packs. "You want this?"

     "Aww, mate, you're after me heart... It's Your blanket."

     "I have a cloak... you have half a shirt... I'll be fine." He handed the blanket to Junkrat, who thanked him, curled up, and pulled it over himself.

     Mako kicked away a few rocks before lying down on the earth next to the warm embers again.

     There was an occasional crackle from the embers, a few crickets and bats chirping, and the breeze blowing over the treetops. It should have been peaceful, but the silence had Junkrat's mind buzzing, despite how worn down his body was. Orc camps and villages were loud at all hours of the night, half the clan being nocturnal and the other half diurnal for security purposes. It seemed wrong, not hearing his clan, but it also made him angry that they'd get rid of him so easily. He definitely wanted revenge eventually.

     "Say, mate, ya got any plans now that ya run away?"

     Mako thought for a moment, "Guess not. Just needed to get away."

     "Wanna stick around with me for a bit? After I learn 'a walk with a cane or summin'." He yawned.

     "..Okay. What'll we do?"

     "Could find a multi species city, find work maybe." Junkrat yawned and felt sleep start to pull at his consciousness. "Hmmph. Nevermind, that's boring, too many humans.. Maybe we should be bandits instead. Get you a new name, summin' scary. Take over any carriage like we own it. I'll tell 'em the story about the wolf eating my leg, say you took it down one-handed, and to give us the gold 'fore they end up like tha wolf." Junkrat was mumbling his words now. "Junkrat and... whatever your name'd be. The unlikely duo! Mayhem and murder all f' some fresh bread 'n cakes... No travelers 're safe from them! Th'orcs 'n elves'd have a field day findin' out we worked t'gether..."

     "What should my name be?"

     "Hmm... summin' 'bout yer past?"

     "The Boar."

     "'S not scary enough."

     "The Boarror."

     Junkrat sleepily giggled. "C'mon... What 'bout one like mine, so I don't stick out so much?" Junkrat yawned again.

     "Junkhog."

     "Nah, mate, w're not siblings."

     "Bloodhog."

     "Tha's a little too on the... snout." Mako chuckled at the joke.

     "If we're bandits on the Road, then what about Roadhog?"

     "Hmm.. yes." Junkrat was almost asleep. "Tha's a good one. No one owns th' road, but you. Roadhog. Mm."

     "Night, 'Rat."

     "Nigh', 'Hog... Thanks f'r stoppin' when you saw me."

     Junkrat fell asleep as Mako stayed awake to think a bit longer. It sounded like a fun fantasy, but he wasn't sure if the orc would really care in the morning. He'd stay with him a couple more days, his good deed done, his conscience clear and feeling a bit less guilty about murdering humans... abandoning his friends... then be on his way. No use making more friends if he'll just lose them eventually.

     Still, he felt a pang in his heart at the thought of leaving Junkrat. He expected the orc to want to kill him immediately upon waking, and instead found out they had more in common. He didn't have to make any decisions now, but he knew he shouldn't stay.

     Maybe he'd keep the name regardless. 'Mako' wasn't who he was any more. But could he really be Roadhog?

     Slowly, the elf was lulled to sleep by the sound of the orc's breathing and the nightlife of the forest.


End file.
